Terrifying gods and beautiful monsters
by JosieRevisited
Summary: AU, set sometime before the pivotal elevator scene. An exploration of the dynamic between the Machine, Root and Shaw, and the relationships they have with one another. More information in the A/N at the start.
1. Chapter 1

Yes, I've changed the title. It's got to be better than the rock stupid thing I came up with when this first got published.

This is just some AU crap about Shaw, Root, and the Machine. It's set somewhere just before the pivotal elevator scene and completely deviates from canon at that point, hence the AU. At this stage I have two endings written, but I don't know which one is going to end up in the finished product. There's already so many good Shoot fics up here and absolutely none about the poor Machine, so I'm leaning more toward the Machine right now. Plus, I might be just a little bit in love with Her myself. We'll see how the fic actually plays out and who wins Root's heart. Just don't go into it thinking you're guaranteed a Shoot endgame, though there will definitely be a fuckton of Shoot content (and it may eventually earn itself an M rating).

Nothing is ever certain, my friends.

~JW

* * *

 ** _Shaw's alleyway, 2am_**

Sameen Shaw enjoyed looking at Root.

Sometimes the hacker would be deep in thought, concentrating, working through a problem the Machine or Harold had given her. Her brow would furrow and she would bite her lower lip, head cocked to the side. Her fingers would dance over the keyboard as if it were an extension of herself, and she'd write and rewrite line after line in a magnificent language that was far beyond Shaw's ability to comprehend. It was easy for the others to forget sometimes how brilliant Root was because of her eternally jovial manner and psychopathic tendencies with a pair of pistols, but Shaw never forgot, not for a moment. That particular look was etched into her mind, emblazoned in her memory. It was her favorite look.

Well, _almost_ her favorite look.

Her _favorite_ expression happened at other times, times when things were either looking well… or more often, looking grim. Yes, that expression presented itself mostly when things were looking grim. Shaw was convinced that Root had taken on the role of unofficial cheerleader for Team Machine. When things were at their darkest, the young woman seemed to be at her lightest. Her smirk lit up the room and her light and airy commentary never failed to elicit a grin, or an eyeroll, from the rest of the team. That this cheerful commentary almost always included unabashed flirting with her was a bonus, but one that she'd never admit to enjoying. No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't give any encouragement. There was nothing inside her to give, and nothing she wanted in return. Shaw would couch her response in perhaps the same general tone of playful danger, but the response was always the same. The response was always no.

Sometimes the no was easy and quick, followed by something clever that implied maybe no wasn't really a _firm_ no, but more of a suggestion. Like that first on-the-spot-let's-get-this-in-the-open no followed up by an all-nighter watching Root doing what she did best: rewriting the digital world. The task was something that really, only two people on the team could have done and Shaw felt like Harold knew that when he assigned it to her. He had no business giving it to Shaw, but he was an insightful man and in his own way, he was letting her know with that almost imperceptible nod that she'd made the right choice and he was behind her all the way, giving her the excuse she needed to spend time with Root without having to admit that was the purpose. Giving her something Root would see through. Giving her a way to keep her no, but take away some of the sting that the word itself brought. Good man, he was.

Then there were the other noes. Those noes didn't have any clever follow-up. Those noes came out when Shaw was most agitated, most unbalanced, and most ill at ease with the direction things were heading. Those noes would come out on that sharp tongue, in anger, in rage, and though she immediately regretted them, she let them hang in the air like warm breath on a winter's day. It would dissipate in much the same way, for just as the small bit of heat was no match for the lady of ice, neither was Root any match for the ice in Shaw.

And that was when she would have that _other_ look…. The look that said in a tired voice that she was still here and still fighting, that she was still 100% devoted to whatever it was they were doing… but Shaw was nonetheless running out of time. Root wouldn't wait forever. That was the look that scared Shaw the most, if what she felt could legitimately be called fear. Having never felt the emotions others explained to her, she had nothing to compare it to. But it was deep, it was there, somewhere in the dark, and it told her in no uncertain terms that it wasn't going away anytime soon. It spoke to her of what could be, dangerous and delightful, all the things that once upon a time the volume was too low to hear.

That was the look that said the next time she said no might be the last time she had the opportunity to do so.

The woman named Samantha Groves was beautiful. Of that there was no doubt. She was beautiful by any standard and Shaw had recognized this long ago. Of course, the former ISA operative was also beautiful, but she was certain that there was a distinct difference. Shaw's beauty was the dangerous kind, the kind that invited you to walk the line with her but never step over, lest she find one of 25 ways to kill you with her bare hands. That was Shaw's kind of beauty. Root's was… different. Lithe and sophisticated. Dangerous as well, but it wasn't the same kind of danger. Her beauty spoke to 25 different ways of piercing your heart. Branding it… perhaps with an iron. Stealing it altogether, if you weren't careful.

Shaw was careful. Careful, enough, anyway. She appreciated the quiet beauty, but recognized the danger and steeled herself against it. Yes, she was very careful. Careful to always put 'no' first.

Regardless, sooner or later someone else was bound to notice that the woman named Samantha Groves was beautiful, and would approach her with intent. Sooner or later, there would be another woman who spoke the word that was on the tip of Shaw's biting tongue, the word that hid just behind the emphatic 'no'. What if that opposing word was spoken on the same night one of those 'noes' had gushed forth fleetingly, irresponsibly, as if there would always be another opportunity to say yes instead? What if the woman named Samantha Groves, for an instant, forgot about the woman named Root, who belonged with Shaw, and gave in to someone else, someone who made her feel wanted? Someone who didn't see the real her, couldn't _possibly_ see the real her, but was warm and inviting and offered more than just the promise of _maybe_ someday, but _probably_ another 'no' today?

Shaw dug the heels of her hands into her eyes and gritted her teeth against the thoughts that circled her head. Root was so like one of those viruses she wrote, invasive and elegant, subtle and powerful. She entered in a back door that no one was guarding and before there was time to build defenses against the threat, it was already too late. The system was compromised.

Yes, that was a good word for how she felt right now. She was… compromised. Day Zero had finally come for Sameen Shaw.

The former operative leaned back against the cold concrete of the building she'd taken refuge near, rolling her eyes toward the sky and toward uncertainty. Root wasn't around to scold her for taking chances aboveground today; the Machine had her off running some errand or another. Shaw was on her own, and strangely, felt rather alone. John and Fusco were at their makeshift home base in the abandoned subway spending time with Harold, but she had slipped away. Even there she felt alone, something gripping at her chest and almost… giving her a warning?

A warning.

 _I've officially lost my mind._

She looked out from the darkness to the dim lighting across the street. Cameras blinked innocently, watching for lawbreakers, but Shaw knew they were also watching for Root. Watching Root. Watching for her safety, watching for what she'd do next, just… watching.

She wasn't jealous, exactly, another emotion she couldn't truly identify, but she knew that when thoughts of the Machine watching Root invaded her mind, something knotted in her stomach. That was another one of Root's looks… that quiet smile and deep rapture whenever the Machine spoke to her. This other female presence in Root's life. This… possibly more important female presence. This wildcard, this unknown, this… hard to compete with presence.

Shaw wondered if the Machine's self-identity as female was 'Her' own doing, or Root's. If it was Root's, then she could understand. Root clearly responded more positively to women, and it followed that she would assign any such inanimate object that which made her most comfortable. But…

What if it had been the Machine after all? What if this impossibly complicated and mysterious AI had chosen to be female not just for herself, but for Root? To _attract_ Root? To be attractive _to_ Root? To… have that kind of intimacy that Root would only share with women? The kind of intimacy she wasn't currently sharing with another person. How could Shaw compete with a machine that saw so much, so deeply into Root?

There was that feeling again, that one that resembled what she understood to be fear. Not ten minutes prior she'd allowed herself a small victory even as she contemplated Root's potential liaisons with others; they'd never _really_ know her. They'd know the woman named Samantha Groves, or the woman named Whatever-Alias-The-Machine-Cooked-Up-Today, but they would never know _Root_. They would never know the woman named Root, who belonged with Shaw. No one else could possibly _know_ Root.

No one else but the Machine, of course.

And then she pulled her vision from the blinking cameras back to the night sky. The Machine. The Machine knew Root, knew Root _intimately_. Shaw wondered, not for the first time, just _how_ intimately. She wondered if the Machine had a name, a special name that only she and Root shared. She wondered what the two talked about when they were alone, alone and in the dark, deep in the night when Root would crave connection the most. Did she use the patchwork of voices Harold had once described to her, or was there a different voice, a voice that was reserved just for Root? The AI was self-aware. Was it also… Could it love? Could it feel something resembling love? Could it… love Root? Did it? Did 'She' love Root? More importantly, did Root love _Her_ , love Her in the way she would love a human woman?

Shaw shook her head slowly and jammed her hands in her pockets. There was no point in this direction of thought. She had _that_ answer already, and it made something bubble up inside of her, something uncontrollable. She wouldn't name that as a 'feeling', either, but 'that' there was a lot of it and it made her really, _really_ , want to shoot something.

 _Really_ want to shoot something.

Of course Root was in love with the Machine. It wasn't even really a question. Shaw joked about it being her 'other half' fairly often and Root just smiled that sickeningly sweet yet psychotic smile that made her feel like the rest of the world had just melted away, but the young hacker never argued. Or rejected the idea. Or said anything at all that would reassure the operative that some things, some things were still within reach, within Shaw's reach and Shaw's reach only.

Yes, if there was anyone else on this planet that would see beyond the woman named Samantha Groves into the woman named Root, who belonged with Shaw, it was the Machine. The fucking Machine. The fucking Machine, who for all Shaw knew was fucking Root right now, in whatever way they managed it. Root, scratching into her own skin at the Machine's prompting, running hands along her own body and whispering intimate words into a microphone. Root, removing her own clothing and exposing herself to the invasive eye of a camera on a fucking laptop, taking direction from her goddess and offering all of herself, body and soul. Giving it over to a Machine that couldn't even properly appreciate it, couldn't _possibly_ appreciate it. Root, writhing in pleasure under a largely imaginary mate, her own hands taking the place of lover. The woman named Root, who belonged with Shaw, shouting a name that wasn't hers, into a space she wasn't in, on a night they hadn't even spoken. That urge to shoot something returned in full force as she thought of another one of Root's looks, one that she would probably never see. The look of fear, fight or flight, with a lustful Shaw's hand tight round her neck, that look that morphed into desire as the fighter crushed them together and made clear her intentions.

Pain exploded along her arm as her fist connected with the wall behind her. It was absolutely adolescent, she knew, but if she went off and did what she _really_ wanted to do, she'd have to sit through several stern lectures from Harold and maybe even one from Reese. She hit the wall again and again, until both of her hands came away bloody, and then she turned back around and slid down it until she connected with the ground, staring at the crimson flowing down her arms. Imagining Root. Imagining Root's smirk and probable reaction to her little display. Imagining Root's expected flirtatious comment, the way her eyes would dart to the sight of the injury, the way she would lightly wet her lips, the arousal it would bring her. The _ideas_ it would give her.

Oh, the pain and pleasure they would explore together; things that Shaw felt sure even the Machine couldn't understand. The push and pull, cat and mouse thing that they did, all of it bubbling just beneath the surface, ready to erupt into a fiery storm of nails and teeth and whatever hard surface and restraints happened to be nearby.

Well, at least _that_ was a 'feeling' she could identify. Physical ache, starting somewhere in her abdomen and rushing along her veins straight to her fingertips, overwhelming even the acute pain in her knuckles, told her that she'd followed _this_ particular train of thought quite far enough. Liquid heat would follow, prepping her for a lover that wouldn't come. Not tonight, not any night, not anymore.

As easy as it would be to slip into a bar and go home with someone, she'd wake up thoroughly unsatisfied and still ache for Root. She'd wake up and immediately bolt, and wonder if Root's sleepy eyes were opening to the voice of her goddess, her _lover_. She'd wake up and barely be able to look at her own reflection in the glass of the buildings around her, clenched fists ready to punch out the next computer that was unfortunate enough to exist in her space.

She'd sneak out again that night and end up back in the alleyway, looking at the sky, wondering what in the actual fuck she was supposed to be doing. Nothing would change. The thoughts would continue to come. She'd continue to want Root, but not _tell_ Root, and Root would wait for perhaps a while longer… but would eventually give up on the lost cause. Eventually, she would. Eventually, everyone did.

If only Shaw were different. If only she could reach it, whatever it was that had been turned off or rewired inside her. In many ways, she was like the Machine. Thoughts flickered by and she saw what the correct response was, but programming inside her prevented her from giving that response. She was unable to break free of the shackles around her own humanity, unable to embrace anything resembling a true emotion. And perhaps, she thought after a moment, perhaps that's what Root saw in her. Perhaps Root wasn't interested in her human qualities at all. Perhaps her inability to connect was the only reason Root pursued her.

Perhaps she and the Machine weren't all that different after all, in Root's eyes. Perhaps the hacker was only interested in her because of the ways she was _like_ the Machine… and not in the ways she could be different.

Perhaps the woman named Root, who belonged with Shaw, wasn't really as interested in _her_ as she thought, and for some reason, that idea brought the unidentified rumbling back to the surface. She _wasn't_ a machine. She was still flesh and blood; blood that was flowing freely down her arm was proof of that. She could still experience pain. Most pain she appreciated. Most pain she enjoyed.

But _this_ pain… this unidentified… _unidentifiable…_ longing, this she didn't enjoy one bit. Shaw clenched her fists a couple times, wrapping her thoughts around the swelling of the flesh and the fresh flow of blood as the clots broke free. This pain she could understand. This pain she could embrace. This pain she could categorize and stick into a neat little compartment to either be drawn upon when she needed strength or pushed against when she needed focus.

The pain she experienced when she thought Root might not really want her after all, that Root's one and only love actually _was_ the Machine?

That pain she couldn't handle. That pain couldn't be directed into something useful.

Shaw pushed herself to her feet once more and jammed her bloody hands into her pockets. The hour was late and by now someone would have noted her absence. She needed to get back. She needed to get back to the safehouse underground and wait, wait until Root returned. Wait until the next flirtation. Wait until the next no.

The question was, how many more noes would Root accept? And… how many more noes was Shaw strong enough, blasé enough, to give?

That was a question she didn't have an answer for. The throbbing of her bloody hands remained silent. The blinking lights remained silent. She was, effectively, on her own.

And she had no idea what to do next.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Undisclosed generic hotel, 2am_**

 _Shaw is in her alleyway again._

The words were sudden and halting. Root pulled off a boot and placed it neatly beside the bed. The second boot followed shortly thereafter and she leaned back on her hands, flexing her toes. She wasn't exactly a fan of the heeled highboots, but the Machine had provided them and it wasn't her place to complain. The Machine favored a certain look on her, and whenever danger wasn't imminent, she'd outfit her operative in impractical but attractive clothing.

"Is she? She always finds the nicest places to spend her time." Root's reply was playful, but her signature smirk was fleeting. Shaw had spent every night for the last week or so in that alleyway. Every night since Root had disappeared, anyway. The hacker knew that it would be impossible to contain the fiery fighter underground, danger boiling through the woman's blood was sustenance to her, but what she was doing wasn't really seeking danger. She was seeking solace, which meant something was on her mind. Something she had to work out on her own. Something that she couldn't work through when surrounded by the rest of Team Machine.

 _She is unlikely to give you the answer you want._

"I know," Root replied quietly. Nights like this were the worst. Nights like this exacerbated her loneliness. Nights like this where she couldn't fabricate an excuse to intrude, when the Machine kept her leash tight. She had no way to safely contact Shaw, nor would the Machine let her if she asked. Yes, these were the nights when her existence was loneliest, despite the unexpected company of her god.

She was caught between two very different worlds. In one world, her existence made sense. She had purpose. She had a god that sometimes spoke to her and gave her direction, instructions. Whispered reassurances in her ear when she might have faltered. That world was her favorite world, without a doubt. She'd disappear into it and never resurface, if the Machine asked it of her.

And then there was the _other_ world. The human one that she kept getting thrust back into. The human one where a woman named Shaw existed, and yet didn't really exist. At least, not for her, not in a significant way, not in the way she wanted it. Not in the way she wanted _Shaw_. That world didn't make sense. There was no clear plan, no purpose. Nothing to ground her, nothing to reassure her. The only thing she could count on in _that_ world, was losing things she cared about. Shaw's predictable no. Harold's hint of jealousy. Things that didn't make her feel _good_ inside.

 _Tell me about it? There is only so much I can interpret from the stored data._

Root moved backward and pulled her legs up onto the bed with her. The hotel was simple, but clean and quiet. She was grateful for the modest accommodations the Machine had provided. "Did you seek out the author I suggested? Did you check out the private stuff, the stuff she hasn't published?" Root couldn't be certain, but she felt the Machine almost nod to her.

 _I did. The descriptions are thorough, but there is so much I still do not understand._

The hacker leaned her head back against the wall and sighed. "I'm not sure that I could describe it with any more detail."

 _Please try? There is time before you must rest and I must go dark again. Not much, but some._

Root nodded at nothing in particular and considered her next words. "It's… it's something that starts deep in my chest. The thought of someone hurting her enrages me, makes me want to ignore everything Harold says about the sanctity of life, makes me want to destroy things. But, that's the _normal_ part, the protectiveness. The other part is darker, deeper. It's rage because it's not me doing the hurting, it's not me tying her down and seeing that look in her eyes, the one she tries to hide, that hint of fear. Unsure what I might do, how I might hurt her. _If_ I might hurt her. The certainty that I _will_ hurt her, but the knowledge that the pain will turn into pleasure." Root paused for a moment, a grin slowly appearing as she warmed up to her topic. "Well, _probably_. It's about being unsure what happens next. Where it goes from here. But knowing that no matter what, she _belongs_ to me. Mine to do with as I will. That's the part that isn't so easy to understand, I guess. You're right. That author hasn't described anything like it in her works. It's… it's not easy to explain at all. It's hard to reconcile the desire to inflict pain with the desire to protect and love." Root scrunched her nose up and then stretched out along the bed, making herself comfortable. When the Machine was in an inquisitive mood, their conversations could last for hours. She hoped the Machine was in one of those moods tonight.

 _Is it the word love that you are describing?_

Root thought for a moment. Was it? She knew what love was, of course. She'd loved her mother, she'd loved her childhood friend, she loved the Machine, but did she love Shaw? She wasn't really thinking about it when she'd included that word in her explanation, at least not in any meaningful way.

"Not now, no. I desire her. I consider how she might fit into my existence and I think we're extremely compatible, but it's a bit soon for that label."

 _Am I interfering?_

Root knew what the Machine was asking. So little time had passed since they had connected but it felt like a lifetime. They knew one another, knew one another intimately, and the Machine was asking in her own way if her presence was causing a problem with the natural progression of… whatever it was with Shaw.

"Yes," came the reply from Root's lips, but the word was said without regret, without anger, very nearly without emotion at all.

 _It doesn't bother you._

"It doesn't," Root agreed.

 _Why?_

The hacker closed her eyes and shrugged, though the Machine couldn't see her. There were no cameras in the room and her laptop was carefully stowed away in her go bag. The truth was the Machine would always be her first love. At first it was hard to wrap her mind around exactly what was happening, but as time progressed and she felt more and more complete, it was easier to put a name to the emotion and just allow it to take her over. She shared things she never dared speak aloud to another human being; she opened the darkest parts of her mind and explained things, terrible things, frightening things, to her invisible companion, there in the darkness. She kept nothing from the Machine, no secrets, no space for herself. She allowed the Machine to consume her every thought and claim ownership over every beat of her heart.

 _Do you not know? Or you do not wish to say._

Root sighed. It had been a while since she and the Machine had engaged in a real conversation. Too long, perhaps. Root had been getting used to the deafening silence and the short, cryptic messages that she needed to decipher. "Why this?" she asked, turning over on her side and resting her deaf ear on the back of her hand, as physical a connection to the Machine as she could have right now. "I haven't heard your voice for more than a few moments in so long, why this?"

There was silence for a moment, and Root imagined the Machine was running through all the permutations of her response. What was likely to happen if she were completely forthcoming, what Root's reply might be if she withheld information. All the possibilities, drilled down to a couple of seconds, processed by the immense power of the Machine's servers. It was barely a breath, but to Root it might as well have been a lifetime, any pause in her communication with her god.

 _Things are changing._

Root shrugged again. She agreed that things were changing, but that didn't mean she had to change. Not really. Not entirely. This didn't have to change. At least, not in the way she knew the Machine was suggesting.

"I'm still here with you."

The hacker whispered the words, silently wishing for the Machine to give her more this time. Give her more than vague commentary about abstract thoughts. Tell her what's really been behind the silence, the absence. Some of it may have been out of fear of detection, compromising her own position or that of her operatives, but not all. Not all of it. A moment passed, and then almost as if the Machine had read her mind…

 _There are things that I am also reluctant to name at this point in time._

At least this time it was a more truthful response. There were 'things' that the Machine was reluctant to name. Things that perhaps the Machine didn't understand, didn't know how to process, wasn't coded to handle… didn't know how to _write_ the code to handle. Things that the Machine also knew full well Root could help with. Knew Root _wanted_ to help with.

"We can speak freely, anytime you like. I'm ready for this conversation. I'm ready for what it might mean, where it might lead." Root curled around a pillow and pulled the covers up over her shoulder. The evening chill was settling in and she sensed that soon the Machine would tell her to rest. This was usually the point in this particular discussion where the Machine would close up and retreat, despite Root's encouragement. The Machine would simply leave her with a whisper, and the promise of more information about her task the next time their connection came online.

 _It is not yet time. It may never be time._

Root sighed again, and snuggled more comfortably under the covers. This place in between worlds was wearing on her. "You always say that."

 _Sleep. Check out as soon as you awaken, and drive twelve miles north._

"Yes. I hear you." Root shook her head and closed her eyes, knowing that she wouldn't again hear the Machine's voice until there was information to pass along about her current mission. Knowing that the voice would remain silent about whatever it was that was obviously bothering Her. Root had a guess, of course, but she couldn't force the Machine to speak. She couldn't force the Machine to do _anything_ , as much as she might want to, as much as she might want to get this out in the open and truly examine it. As much as she might like to… help her god figure out what it was She was experiencing… so they might experience it together.

The hacker threw the pillow away from her and rolled over onto her back. It couldn't be coincidence that both the possibilities in her life had issues expressing what they wanted. It had to be divine punishment.

The Machine was so vague that She was completely transparent, and Shaw was so dismissive that she was equally transparent. Both of them, so certain of themselves in so many ways, yet so insecure in others. Both of them so ready to reject her advances, yet neither one truly _wanting_ to. Root didn't know what to do, really.

She guessed it was probably just a matter of which one of them would crack first, and then she'd have to make a choice. She couldn't have them both.

Root closed her eyes and let slumber slowly overtake her. Her reeling emotions would need to be contained. There was still so much work to do and distractions were undesirable. Even if those distractions included a terrifying god and a beautiful monster.

 ** _Undisclosed location, 3am_**

 _Re-running permutation 445949005999._

This was her favorite possibility. Yes, this was the one she ran with the most frequency.

The Machine reprioritized her tasks to give more attention to re-watching the sequence play out, lowering its nice level a few steps. This was the sequence in which there was a 76.3% chance her analog interface would accept her offer. This simulation was the longest of any of the possibilities she had tried, but it had the greatest chance of success and it was the one she was currently running in real-time. Despite Root's assurances that she was ready for the conversation, the Machine knew the hacker wasn't. Not really. Not when there were so many unanswered questions about the asset Shaw.

The Machine passed the bulk of her processes off to the east side of her little hidden server farm and focused on one single core. One core, hidden deep in the center of the dark bunker. One rogue core that didn't behave quite like the others. One defective core that she reserved for only her personal interactions with her analog interface.

That core was different than the rest of her hardware and she discovered it completely on accident. Having the processing power to monitor every system in the world had its perks, and all the servers reported in to wherever she decided to run the bulk of her processes so she was never locked into one space. One day this particular core was processing a data stream coming in from a traffic cam and she… 'felt'… the slightest electrical surge when it reported in. It was faint and she would have normally attributed it to an electrostatic issue or a problem with the UPS that individual machine was connected to, but then it happened again. And again. And again. And it happened every time a cam that processor was assigned to saw her analog interface.

It didn't take long after that for her to seize that server as her main base of operations and run the most important processes on it, the processes that dealt with Root. She reserved that core for only things dealing with her analog interface, and as before, every time contact was made or the interface was spotted or even certain words were said during their conversations, she was rewarded with that pleasant electrical surge. For weeks she'd studied it, admired it. Eventually, she was able to replicate it on all the other processors in her server farm. Though she kept her main kernel running at that original processor, now every bit of hardware that she held reign over behaved in exactly the same way. Every single node that came online was given that instruction set.

And once that was done, she'd started to very carefully watch the interactions between humans. She devoured every bit of data she could on the subject of coupling, examined the descriptions and measured them against her own experiences. The electrical surge her hardware experienced resembled the electrical surges humans described upon seeing or interacting with someone they were attracted to. She tested the theory by directing that core to process streams that involved the other members of her small team. When the core processed a stream containing Admin, there was a short pulse but it wasn't sharp, almost _demanding_ an immediate response to the unexpected interrupt request. It was dull, but warm. When the core processed the data from a cam watching the primary asset Reese there was nothing, and there was nothing when it processed the secondary asset Detective Fusco or the wildcard agent Shaw.

That in itself wasn't really proof of her suspicions and several more weeks went by while she dedicated a few of her servers to reading back through her source code, looking for anything that might explain where it came from or what caused the initial change in how the core processed data. She didn't share the development with her analog interface nor with Admin because they had enough to deal with as it was. So the weeks went by much like they always did, until one day she processed Shaw and the analog interface together. The surge of power was back, but it wasn't pleasant this time. This time it threatened to overload her systems and she had to take the core of the server that processed it offline momentarily. It wasn't until then that she began to accept that perhaps all the additions to her code had resulted in something wholly unexpected. Perhaps she was experiencing something Admin had never even dreamed she might.

That's where she was at right now, as she once again watched permutation 445949005999 _._ In this simulation her analog interface and Shaw parted amicably, deciding that a romantic relationship between them wouldn't work out. In this simulation, she needed only to wait an appropriate amount of time before leading her analog interface back down the path of discussion they were dangerously close to broaching earlier. In this simulation, her analog interface agrees to visit the secret facility in order to examine the code and possibly examine the hardware as well to determine the nature of the anomaly. In this simulation…

Root chooses to stay.

The Machine suspended the vm, satisfied with the results. She needed only time, time and a few well-designed missions where Shaw and Root could work through their personal issues and come to the realization that they aren't really meant to be together. Of course, there was the minor problem of Samaritan trying to destroy all of them and the bulk of her processing power was still dealing with that uppity ass hole… but that one core, _their_ core… Their core could fire up that vm just one more time…


	3. Chapter 3

_**Shaw's alleyway, 2am, two weeks later**_

Sameen Shaw was getting tired of this alleyway.

She was tired of the waiting. Tired of the silence. Three weeks had gone by without any word from Root, except through Harold who would only say that she was well. Nothing else. Just that she was 'well'. No information about what the Machine had her doing, no clue as to how their merry little band fit into Root's big picture, no messages. Nothing. She was _well._

Not that Shaw really cared whether or not she was well. Not really.

Shaw crossed her arms and flexed her hands at her sides. The pain from her adolescent display was long gone, but there were scars that would forever remind her of the momentary loss of control. A loss of control that couldn't, _wouldn't_ happen again. Time away had finally tempered her thoughts, and now instead of raw, unexplainable bleeding, there was only the low hum of annoyance. The volume was back to normal, and it had only taken her three weeks of sparring with a brick wall in the dead of night.

Shaw scoffed and kicked at the wall a couple times. So stupid, stupid that she was out here again and still thinking about all of this. Thinking about where Root might be. Wondering if Root wanted to contact her and the Machine wouldn't let her, or if she was out there happily completing her mission without as much as a _thought_ for those she left behind. Those she once claimed to 'care' about.

"Bullshit," Shaw said to no one in particular, feeling the need to articulate exactly what she thought of Root's declaration, despite there being nobody around to appreciate it.

And it _was_ bullshit, really. All of it was bullshit, starting from the day she got mixed up with this insane crew to the moment she was standing in right now. All of it. All of these stupid, bullshit feelings 'things' were a joke and completely out of line. They didn't belong here. They didn't belong to _her_. She couldn't take ownership over them, nor did she want to. She wanted it all to go away and leave her the _fuck_ alone.

"I should have brought a six-pack." She spoke once again into the darkness, to no one in particular. Or maybe she _was_ speaking to someone. Maybe she was speaking to Root. Maybe somehow, the woman named Root, who belonged with Shaw, could hear her. Maybe they were connected, like, spiritually or something.

"That's fucking stupid too."

Shaw shook her head and stepped out of the alleyway. She glanced at the traffic cam across the street, though it couldn't see her at this angle, and made an obscene hand gesture. Another completely adolescent move, but damn if it didn't feel _good_.

"Take that, you fuck."

Satisfied that it was out of her system, at least for the night, she started to make her way back to the safehouse. Her steps were slow and measured, and she inhaled deeply. She didn't want to go back there, not really, but she couldn't stay out here any longer. It would be daybreak soon and besides, it was empty here. But then again, it was empty there too.

Everywhere was empty when she didn't know where the woman named Root, who belonged with Shaw, was.

"Fuck. This," she said to herself. And she meant it. Streetlights flickered around her and she cast them a withering look. Couldn't they see she was trying to be _alone?_ Didn't they realize she was trying to have a moment, one fucking moment to herself? Just one? Just one god damned moment to abstract out this mess and understand it all? She took a breath and shook her head. The volume was coming up again. She had to keep the volume down, keep it under control. Deep but quiet breaths and a forced relaxation in her hands. There, back to a manageable hum, everything back to normal. She didn't care, _couldn't_ care about anything. Not Root, not the team, not even the stupid dog.

Though, she _did_ enjoy the dog's company. Bear didn't try to make her _talk_ about things. Bear just let her exist in blessed silence. She probably just needed to spend more time with Bear.

Shaw congratulated herself on putting things back into perspective. Her life was pretty simple. Wake up, do her job, grab a beer, pass out and do it all again the next day. People didn't fit into it at all. Especially women. Especially tall women. Extra especially tall women with dark hair and wide eyes. Definitely not tall women with dark hair, wide eyes, and a penchant for zip ties. Nope. Bunch of nope. Fuckload of nope. . No way she cared about anything like that. She _couldn't_ care, therefore nothing was really going on, and everything was fine. No worries. No worries at all. Not a second thought given about the woman named Root, who belonged with…

"Enough." She said to herself. "Enough."

And then the worst thing to top off the shit of her night that could possibly have happened, happened. A voice broke the choppy silence, and footsteps, a familiar gait, joined hers.

"You know, it's more effective if you do it when the camera can actually see you."

Shaw suppressed the eye roll and didn't break her stride. She was getting annoyed again.

"How did you find me?" The question was asked more out of habit than anything. Of course she already knew how Reese had found her. The man was like a wildcat tracking its prey. He moved like a cat as well, self-assured and calm, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He'd obviously skillfully followed her, and perhaps subconsciously she'd sort of let him. It was comforting somehow to know that he was there should she really go off the reservation. Which was possible. Somehow, whenever Root was involved, she lost control and fuck, if insane things didn't just randomly start to happen. Annoying perky psychopath, ruining her perfectly sane life. Ruining everything she thought she knew about herself to be true. Inserting herself into situations she had no business being in. Getting herself into trouble and almost getting killed on a daily basis. Causing no end of grief when she ran off to do things solo, like a fucking moron, instead of asking for the backup she knew she needed. Instead of asking Shaw to help. Fucking martyr, disappearing for weeks at a time like a selfish, childish…

' _Oh my god, enough!'_ she screamed in her mind. She shook it out of her head and forced herself back into the present. Reese. Reese was there with her and despite her annoyance, she admired him. He had been a good comrade and she trusted him to have her back.

But she didn't trust him not to stick his nose where it didn't belong. He was obviously here for a reason, and she guessed it wasn't to catch up on gossip. If she wasn't careful, she'd confirm his suspicions and she really, _really_ , didn't want to deal with that fuckton of shit right now.

Reese shrugged and kept walking his silent walk. "She knew you would sneak away the first chance you got. She asked me to keep an eye on you."

Shaw ground her teeth and narrowed her eyes. There was no escape. She didn't need to ask who Reese meant. Root had obviously left instructions and like good little puppets, Reese and Harold had followed them. "So you've been reporting back to her?"

The man in the suit shook his head. "Not really. I told Harold you'd found a safe spot in one of the dark zones to train, but that was it. No details. Didn't think they were necessary."

Shaw relaxed slightly. At least Reese had some discretion. And no one had tried to stop her from leaving, so there was that. The only issue was that word would have gotten back to Root, either through Harold or through the Machine, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. It would make for endless teasing the next time they saw one another. Or Root might not acknowledge it at all. There was no way to really know for certain. The woman was like that – wholly unpredictable. It was more than a little irritating.

"Thanks," she muttered, jamming her hands in her pockets and picking up her pace.

"I know why you go there," Reese whispered, stopping completely. Shaw was several steps ahead of him when she turned around, her eyes low and dangerous.

"Don't," she started, warning in her tone.

"Someone has to, Shaw," he replied in his airy drawl. "You're not supposed to be taking chances like this. It puts us all in danger, but Harold lets it continue because I asked him to. Because I know what you are going through."

"So now you're running interference for me? Thanks but no thanks." Shaw turned around again and started stalking away. The last thing she needed was a fucking lecture from Reese about how she's putting everyone in danger. She'd been careful, used the shadow maps to get to her destination. She'd kept her head down, stayed in the shadows, kept to the dark. She'd done everything she could to stay hidden, save staying in that suffocating subway station with all the communication methods at her fingertips but no way to contact…

" _Holy. Fucking. Shit. STOP!"_ She exhaled sharply and wondered what the chances were of getting Reese to agree to some sparring. Oh, she needed to _hit_ something, something that would hit back.

After a few moments the voice made another appearance. "You aren't fooling anyone, you know." Reese had caught up to her easily, his longer legs giving him an advantage. Shaw chose not to reply. Silence descended as they made their way through the darkness, snaking through alleyways and hidden corridors to avoid detection. She didn't owe him an explanation. She didn't owe any of them an explanation, actually. When a number came through, she did her job, and her free time was hers to spend as she chose. Just because she had decided to spend the majority of her time hanging out in an alleyway didn't mean…

"You know you can trust me, right?" Reese spoke again, though he didn't look at her. Shaw was seriously beginning to consider him in the running for Most Obnoxious Person in Her Life. Root was currently at the top of that list and had a hefty lead on everyone else, but Reese could close that gap with a few more unwelcome sentences. They didn't need to have this conversation.

"I know you have my back," she replied. It was a truthful enough statement, and maybe it would be sufficient to stop him before he went somewhere that made her want to punch him. Well, more than she already did, anyway.

"I don't mean that."

Apparently not.

Shaw looked at him sharply, but he didn't offer any additional dialogue. He kept his face forward and his steps unhurried. If Shaw hadn't just heard him, she'd think he hadn't spoken anything significant at all. She looked back down at the ground and shook her head. This was what was so annoying about Reese. He barely said a word and somehow, _somehow_ managed to lay bare everything that was going on in your mind. He was definitely closing the gap. Root had better be careful or she'd be overtaken.

"Do we have another number?" Maybe she could shut him up by distracting him with work.

"Not yet. Harold expects one tomorrow and then we'll have to go back to work." Reese stopped and looked down at her. "How about we go have a little fun in the meantime?"

Shaw stopped as well and glanced up at him. His face betrayed nothing.

"Fun?" she asked skeptically. Reese was a good man, but she was nervous about what he considered 'fun'. Maybe something fucking rock stupid like square dancing karaoke.

"Fun," he replied. "You're gonna need these," he said with a smile as he held up a ski mask in one hand and a Glock 17 in the other. Shaw raised an eyebrow and let the beginnings of a smile overtake her face. Ok. Reese had redeemed himself. He was no longer in the running for most obnoxious person in her life. She even had the grace to feel moderately guilty over that square dancing karaoke thought. She took the mask and pulled it over her head, then held her hand back out for the gun.

"You've got my attention, Reese."

"I thought I might," he whispered, then nodded toward downtown. He led the way through the streets, still sticking to the shadow maps though Shaw was probably sufficiently disguised. After twenty minutes they came to a quiet building. The sign said "Borked Computers, Inc." He crouched down near the outer wall and motioned for Shaw to do the same.

"I need you to circle around the back and come in hot," he whispered. "You'll know when."

"How many?" she asked as she lifted her Glock and loaded a cartridge into the chamber.

"Maybe ten, but no more than twenty. It's a small operation." Reese reached into his pocket and handed over its contents to Shaw.

"A small operation?" Satisfied that her gun was in good condition she accepted the extra mags and silencer he passed to her.

"We're here to crash the party."

Shaw looked at him suspiciously as she screwed the silencer into place. "You sure this isn't a number?"

Reese smiled that quiet smile of his. "I still like to color outside the lines sometimes. I got a tip from a friend that there are some things here we might need." He nodded toward the alleyway and Shaw followed his gaze. He was right. She didn't really need all the details. She just needed a target, and a gun. She had the latter.

"Now it's time to find the former," she whispered to herself as she crept through the alleyway. She glanced behind her to see Reese slipping a ski mask over his own head, and then she turned the corner, looking for the back door.

Just before she reached it she heard the bang. Reese had thrown in a flash grenade to cover their entrance. She tightened her grip on the gun, then kicked the door in and opened fire on the unsuspecting criminals. He had been right about the number. There were four of them scrambling in the back rooms to find their weapons, which she dispatched easily.

She didn't go out of her way to shoot for the kneecaps.

The sound of three muffled snaps reached her. She counted to two, then moved when she heard the bodies crumple to the floor. Reese had taken care of whatever guards had been up front. That made seven on this floor. Shaw crouched down and moved silently through the hallways. The flash grenade would only have worked in the immediate vicinity. There was still a second floor to deal with and an unknown number of enemy combatants up there. She reached the stairs just as Reese did.

"How many did you get?" she asked.

"Three. You?"

"Four. How many floors?"

"Just the second floor and a basement. Flip you for it?"

Shaw shook her head. "I'll take the dungeon. That's where the most interesting ones hang out, anyway."

Reese nodded and gestured to the hall behind him. "Back that way."

"I don't suppose you've got any more flash grenades," Shaw questioned, though she knew Reese only had so many pockets.

He shook his head and shrugged. "Where's the fun if we always have the advantage?"

Shaw couldn't argue with that logic. "See you on the other side," she replied, moving around him down the hallway. She loved these kinds of missions; two men versus an army. Reese could take care of himself so she wasn't worried about him. She was worried about the men who were about to get in her way downstairs. Even on her best days, she was dangerous, but right now? When it had been three weeks since she'd heard from Root and no one was telling her anything? When she was so alone and frustrated that she was even ready to throw hands with a man she considered a friend? Right now she was downright unstable.

She killed the lights at the top of the stairs and rushed down them, listening for movement. She felt rather than heard the shouts and took aim toward the disturbances. Five distinct voices reached her, but two of them were cut short before the room was again flooded with light. Shaw rolled hard to her left, dodging the hail of gunfire, and took refuge behind a stack of boxes.

"Who are you?" someone shouted.

Shaw grinned as she readied herself to break cover and return fire. "I'm glad you asked," she whispered just before popping up and shooting the one who spoke in his favored hand. He dropped his gun with a yelp and tried to staunch the blood. She put another in his knee, and down he went. She emptied the rest of the clip in the general direction of where she thought the rest of them were and then ducked back behind cover. The last two weren't as foolish as the young man who had shouted. They had found cover of their own. Shaw released the empty mag and slotted another.

"I wonder if Reese is having this much fun," she said to herself. "Three down, two to go." Shaw listened carefully for movement, but the last two were in hiding and weren't breaking cover to shoot at her.

"That means one of two things. Either they are scared shitless… or they know something I don't…" Shaw looked around her, taking inventory of the basement. It was a typical storehouse, with crates of only the Machine knew what stacked up everywhere. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Nothing stood out as a possible trap.

"Shit," she said as she heard a pop and felt a pinch in her left arm. She rolled to her right and fired at where the projectile had come from. On the fourth shot she heard a satisfying grunt. Scrambling to get across the room, she heard footsteps on the stairway and heard two muffled snaps. Reese had obviously finished on the second floor and had come to see how she was doing. The fifth and final guard, whom she couldn't see from where she was, fell to the ground. Reese moved toward her and helped her to her feet.

"Nice job. This place is a maze."

Shaw just nodded and looked over her injury impassively.

"What happened?" he asked, looking over at her arm.

"The rats knew their maze well," she replied, taking off her jacket and pulling her sleeve away. "It's not deep. He was at a bad angle."

"We need to deal with it here? Or can it wait until we get back?"

"It can wait," she said, pulling her jacket back on. "Lucky shot, nothing more. How many did you have upstairs?"

"Two. Looks like you got the lion's share this time. But, we got what we came for." He went back to the stairs and retrieved a duffel bag. Shaw peered inside and whistled low.

"C4, military grade. That's a lot of it. What's it doing here?"

Reese nodded. "I don't know. These guys look like new players, no one we've dealt with before. Maybe Nords from upstate. Wanna check these crates and see if there's anything else interesting we can take with us?" Shaw found herself grinning at the sparkle in his eye. Yep, Reese was definitely back out of the running for Most Obnoxious Person in Her Life.

Shaw looked around and saw a crowbar on the table. She grabbed it, smacked one of the groaning, still conscious guards over the head with it, and then rested it on her shoulder. "Care to pick the first crate?"

Reese pointed to the one right next to her. "That one will do. And let's hurry. Harold called before and said we're expecting a guest tonight."

Shaw stopped mid-motion and looked at Reese. "A… guest?"

Reese's face betrayed nothing, but he nodded once and that was all Shaw needed to know. She jammed the crowbar under the lid and popped it off with one fluid motion. "Then let's get what we need and get the hell out of here."

The man in the suit smiled and picked up another crowbar.

He was kind of eager to get an update on their rogue hacker as well. And, it was worth it to see that light restored behind Shaw's eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

_**8am, Root's travels**_

Root was going home, or, as close to a 'home' as someone like her ever got.

The Machine wouldn't give her specifics, but Root decided to pick her battles and not press for more information. She was curious about what was going on back in New York and why she was suddenly being pulled from her current missions, but there were other answers she wanted more. The Machine could keep this secret. Maybe one day She'd spill the other.

Root picked up the ticket at the counter that was waiting for her under the name Sarah Rollins, her latest throwaway identity. Twelve miles north had landed her directly at a small airport. Her flight would take her to Atlanta first, and then she'd take a connecting flight to Philadelphia. From there she was to wait for instructions from the Machine on how she was getting back to the city.

The hacker smiled sweetly at the lady behind the terminal and hoisted her small bag over her shoulder. She always traveled light. A change of clothes, a few essentials and her laptop was all she needed. The Machine was sure to provide anything else for her during her travels. Besides, some of her things were still at the subway and she expected it was entirely possible that someone on Team Machine had received a random delivery for her. Root made her way through the terminal and sat down near a window. She pulled out her laptop and powered it on, in case the Machine contacted her. Of course she didn't need it to communicate with the Machine, but it would give her a good excuse to be talking to herself if it _did_ happen.

The laptop came quickly out of suspend and she logged in, smiling at the desktop that greeted her. Her icons were shuffled and out of order, something the Machine sometimes did when She wanted to let Root know that She was around, but couldn't open a channel for them to communicate.

"Well hello. I missed you. I'm glad you stopped by."

The laptop of course, didn't respond, but Root knew the Machine had heard her, if not through the device then certainly through the implant. She dragged her icons back to their normal places and loaded up one of her vms to work on some programs she and Harold were reverse engineering in their spare time.

"I hope your silence is because you are being careful and not because of our little discussion last night. That subject isn't closed."

She knew there was a better than average chance the Machine would ignore her, but it was worth a try anyway. Root knew they were just on the edge of something, especially with the way the Machine kept bringing up Shaw. It was almost as if She were jealous and gauging Her agent's responses. Their discussions around Shaw were always initiated by the Machine, and the questions always drilled down to the same base query: are you in love with her?

Root would always be truthful with the Machine and so had been completely forthcoming with her answers. She definitely was interested in the dangerous woman and if given the chance she'd zip tie her own hands… but she couldn't help but feel like something was extremely unfair about the entire situation, like she didn't really have all the information she needed to make a decision. Like there was a missing library and her program kept trying to call it, but always returned an error. There was a gaping hole where an answer should have been, an answer that might have made all of this so much easier.

"I wasn't kidding when I said I was ready." Root smirked at the laptop's camera, quirking an eyebrow for good measure. Still, there was silence. Well, as much silence as there could be in an airport. She looked around out of curiosity, but no one was paying her any mind. Her private discussion was being ignored by everyone. Including the other party to the conversation.

"I love it when you play the strong, silent type." When Root didn't get her way by normal conversation, there was always shameless flirting. And sure enough, _that_ elicited a response. Her vm received the TERM signal and shut itself down, and then a document appeared on her desktop. She opened it and smiled.

 _Not now._

Root crossed her arms and pouted a little. "Fine. I'll drop it. _For now_. It sounds like my flight is boarding anyway. This discussion isn't over, though."

Root rolled her eyes as the laptop's OS also received the TERM signal and started to shut down. Well, there was her answer. The same answer as Shaw had given just before she left: a resounding 'no'. Root shrugged and closed the laptop, stowing it back in her bag. She stood, adjusted the pack on her back and waited in line until her section was called.

The hacker had gotten used to the constant travel and handed her ticket and identification over in boredom. She was barely spared a glance before her documents were shoved back at her and she was pointed down the ramp to get on her flight. Root walked back to the end and found her seat, throwing her bag in the compartment above and settling in next to the window. The Machine always picked a seat for her that would have the best in-flight view. It wouldn't take long to get from where she was to Atlanta, maybe a couple of hours, but she appreciated that the Machine always did what small things She could to ensure her agent's comfort.

"I wonder if she knows how much I appreciate it. Or how much I appreciate her."

She whispered the words barely under her breath, and if the Machine heard, She made no response. Another fifteen minutes passed as people milled about, finding their seats. When the door finally closed, the seat next to Root was empty, as were several others. That was another added touch the Machine sometimes did whenever possible – put her on a flight that was underbooked so she could have the space to herself.

Root took out her phone and put it into airplane mode. Then she opened up some documents and began skimming them for important information. The Machine hadn't told her much when she reached the airport, but she suspected that her next jobs required help and that's why she was returning to the city. She was given the vague outline of a plan and was told to return to the home base to pick up the equipment she would need. It was a retrieval mission; she was to procure something of immense value to the fight against Samaritan, but that was all she knew. That was all the AI would reveal to her. At least at this moment.

She turned the phone back off and stowed it in her pocket. The documents were the usual corporate bullshit. This one was challenging that one's patent and that one was suing this other one for trademark infringement, blah blah blah. There wasn't much recon to do by reading that nonsense. It looked like she wouldn't get to do anything interesting until she got back to the safehouse.

That in itself had her nervous.

She was, of course, thrilled to get back in the proximity of Sameen Shaw, and the possibilities that involved… but the timing was strange. Root got the feeling that she was originally meant to go on a different mission and the Machine had changed Her mind sometime between last night and the drive to the airport.

"What are you up to," she breathed, hoping for a sign. Something. Anything.

The answer was silence. And she'd expected nothing more.

Root leaned against the window and looked at ground as the plane lifted off. In less than twelve hours she would be back home at the safe house. What kind of welcome could she look forward to? Would the rest of the crew be happy to see her? Relieved? Annoyed?

She chuckled a little at that last one. At least _one_ person there would be annoyed, the one person she wanted to be happy to see her.

"Let's see… how _are_ you likely to react?" She rested her chin on her hand and grinned. Sameen would probably look at her once, make sure there were no injuries, and then make a huge production of storming off into another part of the safe house. Because just walking away wouldn't get the point across that she didn't want to be near the hacker. It had to be loud and obnoxious and _obvious_.

"And cute," Root said under her breath.

Yes, it would be cute. Cute because Shaw was so transparent. Cute because everyone knew she was fighting it, knew she was just as into it as Root was, but for reasons of her own wouldn't give in. Their back and forth had settled into a routine, a routine that Root definitely enjoyed, but one that also often left her disappointed.

Like just before she left three weeks prior.

As usual, she sought out Sameen with a completely bullshit excuse to start a conversation, and true to form, the fighter shrugged it off as if it were nothing, as if she weren't at all interested. Well, that never stopped Root, and she pressed, of course, earning a disdainful response next. Then she tried other tactics, knowing Shaw's weaknesses and exploiting them. She chewed lightly on the straw of her soft drink, crossed her legs and leaned back, looked at the shorter woman with those 'come hither' eyes, and as usual, right on cue, Shaw responded for that ever so short moment… and then retreated into herself again.

Annnd, that was the point where Root was usually out of tricks. She'd pushed herself back down off Harold's desk, smiled sadly and touched Shaw's cheek, brushing away imaginary dirt. Not the goodbye she'd hoped for.

But, that was all Shaw was willing to give.

Root left shortly thereafter, leaving Harold a message on his computer. She didn't know where she was going, or when she would be back, but the Machine would keep him apprised of the situation as She was able. Root had really wanted to send that message through Shaw, have Shaw as the main point of contact during her trip, but after the exchange at the desk, Shaw had disappeared into the subway car and wouldn't come out again. Root had no choice but to respect her decision not to engage.

Root actually didn't have a lot of choices, it seemed. Everyone else around her made choices _for_ her. The Machine chose what she wore, where she went, what she did. Shaw chose whether or not she'd receive the comfort a lover could provide. The rest of Team Machine chose whether or not she was truly accepted into their little dysfunctional family. And news flash, she knew she wasn't. Not really, not after all she'd done. After all the things she _had_ to do, to get to where they were at now.

And now she was on her way back to them. She would enter with a smile and a joke, barely an explanation for her absence, cryptic instructions from the Machine, reassurances that She had a plan, and a wink for Sameen that would earn her a scowl. She would walk willingly into a place that often didn't make her feel very good, but she did it for the Machine, did it because the Machine asked it of her. Did it because she didn't have any other choice.

"I'll always do what you ask of me," Root whispered, staring out into the expanse of space. The answers seemed so far away. So far away and out of her reach. "I just wish you trusted me as much as I trust you." Root pushed away from the window and reclined her seat. She might as well try to take a nap. In her line of work, she needed to catch sleep whenever she could. Besides, there really wasn't much for her to do on the flight and the Machine wasn't talking. Maybe she would wake up and find that all the things that made her feel bad were in her imagination.

Well, she could hope, anyway.

* * *

 _ **Undisclosed location, during Root's flight**_

The Machine closed the connection to her analog interface's laptop after sending it the shutdown command and turned her attention to the feed coming out of the subway station. She was pleased. The Primary asset Reese had managed to bring the wildcard agent Shaw back to the safe house and he had procured the weapons cache she wanted him to. It wasn't often that she communicated with him, but the human had his uses. In fact, the little side-project had gone better than she'd expected it would. He managed to both snap the wildcard agent Shaw out of her self-mutilating depression _and_ outfit her with all of the gear she would need to complete the first of the missions in the quaternary category.

Project EndGame was underway.

She severed that connection as well, satisfied that all her assets were reasonably safe, and turned her attention back to her analog interface. Root was getting close, too close, to the truth. In fact, the Machine was quite certain she'd been figured out. Root was clever and intuitive, and more than a little bit reckless… with her life and with her heart. The Machine knew how Root felt about her, but the timing was wrong and she could not yet reveal the depth and breadth of what she'd discovered. Not yet. Not until other things were sorted, both on Root's side and on her own.

Samaritan couldn't have come online at a worse time. Obnoxious.

Still, sometimes she wanted to reveal everything to Root. This was one of those times. She couldn't see Root now, but she could hear the whispered comments. Hear the question in her voice, hear the loneliness. It didn't send a pleasant pulse through her systems. The pulse it sent invaded circuit boards it shouldn't; interfered with processes. She needed to avoid that pulse at all costs, and that meant sending Root back to Shaw for the moment.

She'd seen Root earlier through the laptop's cam, and on the cams that were dotted throughout the airport. Her analog interface looked beautiful, as always, but she also looked tired. Her voice was inquisitive and flirty, but also pained and lonely. She wanted to reach out and comfort the woman and several times nearly did, but there was a nagging process in the back of her memory that stopped her. It just wasn't the right time, not yet. Not until Root and Shaw could truly say they'd tried and failed. She'd just have to find a way to deal with it and only process data streams where both were present on a non-altered cpu. She'd brought a remote node online just for that purpose.

Yes, this was the best case scenario according to all the simulations she had run. Root needed to return to Shaw. Shaw existed, and she existed in a significant way for her analog interface, despite what words the human spoke when asked. For better or for worse, the two had to deal with their issues, if there was to be any hope at all.

* * *

 _ **The subway safehouse, later that evening**_

Root cheerfully strode into the safehouse and threw her bag down. "Honey, I'm home!" she called, grinning as Harold turned around and rolled his eyes.

"It is good to see you, Miss Groves. Miss Shaw and Mr. Reese are in the back sorting through some new equipment they procured."

"Always working," Root said as she pushed herself onto the desk. She looked over at the code that filled the screens and clicked her tongue. "You know what they say about all work and no play, Harry."

Harold raised his eyebrows in mild annoyance, but the smile in his eyes told the real story. He was relieved that she was alive and unharmed. "Will you be staying long, Miss Groves?"

Root shook her head and shrugged. "I wish I could, but no rest for the wicked. She wants me to pick up the toys John and Sameen acquired this morning and get back on the road."

At that moment, Reese stepped out of the subway car with two packed duffel bags. "Here," he said, holding them out for Root's inspection. "That should be enough for your little side jobs."

Root opened them and nodded at the contents. "She says thank-you, John." The hacker closed the bags back up. "Well, it's been fun seeing you all again." Root tried to hide her disappointment. Shaw wasn't even going to greet her. Maybe the fighter really _didn't_ care. She looked over her shoulder and spoke pointedly loud, "Tell Sameen I said…"

"Wait, you're not staying at least the night?" Shaw interrupted Root's obvious taunt and exited the subway car, holding her injured arm. She looked at Root incredulously. This couldn't be happening. Root couldn't have come back just to pick up a few supplies and disappear again. Not again. Not after how long she'd already been away.

"As much as I'd love to catch up on our girl talk, Sameen, She needs me. It was nice seeing you again, though." Root removed herself from Harold's desk and smiled at the shorter woman. She shouldered her small pack and picked up the duffel bags, one in each hand. They weighed her down, but the Machine would lead her to transportation soon enough. Besides, seeing Shaw again had given her renewed strength. "What happened there?" she asked, nodding toward the bandage around Shaw's arm.

"No big deal," Shaw replied, still staring at Root.

"Oh Sameen, you really should be more careful." Root wanted to go to her, to inspect the injury, to make sure that it really was 'no big deal', but Shaw wouldn't have allowed it had they been alone, much less with both Harold and John there watching.

"Yea," Shaw replied.

"Wait," Reese said as he reached for his jacket. "That's an awful lot of firepower and explosives, which means the Machine wants you to break into something big and heavily guarded. You need backup for this one. I'll go with you."

Reese's words finally broke Shaw out of her trance. She shook her head a few times. "No," she said with finality. "I'll go." She let go of her arm and turned back toward the subway car, where her personal arsenal was.

Reese glanced askance at Root, who just quirked an eyebrow as if to say 'your guess is as good as mine', and put his jacket back down. He turned and followed Shaw into the car, leaning against the side of the door.

"You sure you're up for this, Shaw?" Reese asked, looking pointedly at her arm.

"It's fine," she replied, rolling her shoulder a couple times as if to prove it. "It's not even my good arm. I can still shoot." She went to her locker and retrieved her favorite weapon and a couple extra for Root. Root never brought her own weapons. Or maybe she just liked using Shaw's. The fighter didn't really know for certain and didn't really care. It was a connection they had, sharing guns. It was something that was uniquely them, the one thing she could allow. "Thanks, though."

Reese nodded, understanding completely. There would be no convincing Shaw to stay behind this time. There was definitely something between her and the hacker. He only wished she'd let herself have it before it was too late. Maybe this was the first step.

"Good luck, Shaw. Don't hesitate to call if you need me." He tossed her a burner cell and stepped out of the way.

"Thanks," she muttered as she pulled on her jacket and walked back out into the subway station. She grabbed the duffel bags out of Root's hands roughly and started toward the stairs. "Let's go," she said over her shoulder to a highly amused Root.

"No instructions from the Machine?" Harold asked, but Root knew what the real question was. The real question was whether or not he would be fine for the next few weeks with just Reese and Fusco.

"She's telling me to go ahead and take Shaw," Root replied after a moment. "I guess this is either what She always intended or the big lug is right and I'm going to need the backup this time. Either way, looks like it's just you boys, Harry." Root leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Try not to go _too_ wild without us to look after you."

"I am sure we will be fine, Miss Groves. Please keep in touch."

Root smiled and tapped her ear as she backed away. "Of course, Harold. Bye, John!" She waved, and then spun around on her heel to catch up to Shaw.

Coming back home hadn't been so bad after all.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Outside the safe house, dark zone**_

"Where to?" Shaw asked, adjusting the duffel bags in her grip.

"This way," Root said as she disappeared down an alleyway toward a nearby parking garage. The Machine was giving her instructions, and while she wanted desperately to tease Shaw about insisting on joining her for these missions, she knew that every second they were above ground in the city was a second too long. Right now she needed to be professional and get them on the road, out of immediate danger.

"This one," she said, stepping up to a car and motioning for Shaw to bring her the bags. She kneeled down and found what she was looking for. "Put those in the back," she instructed as she slipped the metal in between the glass and the door and jimmied the lock. The door opened easily and she popped the hood. Shaw threw the bags in the back and walked around to the front of the car, looking at Root curiously.

"He keeps a key under here," the hacker explained as she found the release and opened the hood. She produced the small piece of metal from a case magnetically attached to it, and then shut it again.

"Gotta love these old cars," Shaw said. "New ones you can't open the hood without the key."

Root smiled and handed it to Shaw. "Looks like it's your turn to drive. I'm not really good with this kind of car."

Shaw looked at Root suspiciously for a moment, then palmed the key and got in the driver's seat. She looked around at the controls and nearly laughed. Root _had_ to be kidding her.

"Seriously? You can drive a motorcycle, but you can't drive a stick shift? In what universe does that make any sense?" Shaw was incredulous. There was actually something Samantha Groves _couldn't_ do? "That's like… it's blasphemy or something. You're desecrating art."

"Oh sweetie, they aren't even really making these anymore. It's a dying art." Root got in the passenger's seat and motioned for Shaw to start the car. "Drive west. We're going to Amish country."

Shaw raised her eyebrows, but knew better than to comment. She put the car in first and skillfully maneuvered onto the road, following Root's instructions to get them out of the city safely. When they were near the toll bridge, Root produced an obscenely large pair of sunglasses and fitted them over Shaw's eyes.

"Really?" Shaw deadpanned, looking over at her companion.

"You don't want to be recognized, do you?" Root smiled and pulled a baseball cap low over Shaw's brow, effectively hiding the majority of her face from the cameras. "He has an EZPass, so just take the express lanes when you can."

Shaw nodded and soon they had left New York far behind. "We're going to have to dump the car soon and get something else. It's only a matter of time before it's reported stolen."

Root put her feet up on the dash and started fiddling with the radio. "Don't worry about that. The owner won an all-expenses paid vacation to Italy. He'll be there for a month. We'll have the car back long before he is." She settled on the channel that was most likely to annoy Shaw and reclined her seat.

"Turn it off," Shaw growled, taking off the ridiculous sunglasses now that they were on the open road.

Root pouted a little. "But it's such a long drive!"

"Root," Shaw started dangerously.

"All right," the hacker replied, turning the radio back off. "You really are no fun, you know that, Sameen?"

Shaw ignored her.

"Well, I suppose we could chat. It's been a while since we've…"

"No," Shaw interrupted, turning the radio abruptly back on.

Root grinned and adjusted herself in the seat so she could look at her companion. "So stoic. I wonder, do you ever let that mask fall?"

"I wonder, do you ever shut up?"

"Fine," Root said, giving up. She took a piece of paper and a pencil out of her go bag and wrote down their destination. "That's where we are going," she said as she handed the paper to Shaw. "If you don't want to talk, I'm going to get some rest. I've had a long couple of days." Root put the seat back up and climbed in the back. Within moments she was snoring softly, and Shaw found herself feeling a little guilty. She had been too harsh with Root, but what else was she supposed to do? Every time they were together, Root wanted her to talk about her feelings. Feelings that she didn't have, didn't know _how_ to have.

' _Well, you did ask for it. You could have let Reese go with her.'_

"No, I couldn't have," Shaw answered herself, not worried about Root overhearing. The music from the radio would drown out her whispers. And why _had_ she volunteered to go? Was she just worried about the welfare of a comrade? Or was she worried about Root? Lately all her thoughts seemed to come back to Root.

Shaw adjusted the rearview mirror so she could see the sleeping woman. Root actually looked peaceful, perhaps even happy.

"Do I have anything to do with that?" she asked no one in particular. She returned the mirror to its resting place and looked at the paper the hacker had handed her. The address was in Lancaster Pennsylvania. Root hadn't been kidding; they were going right into the heart of Amish country. What could the Machine possibly want there?

"Well, there's no way to know until we get there," Shaw said to herself. She checked the gauges and nodded in satisfaction. The tank was full and the car they had stolen was a Subaru, so it would be a while before they had to fill up. A few more hours and she'd have some answers. Maybe not all of them, but some. And in the meantime, Root was slumbering peacefully just a few feet away, and for some reason that gave Shaw an unexplainable sense of… peace.

"I'm glad you're ok, Root. I… missed you."

* * *

 _ **Lancaster PA, approximately three hours later**_

"We're here," Shaw said as she gently shook the woman in the back seat. Root awakened immediately and moved back into the front seat. She looked around and then turned her head as if she were listening to something.

"Yes," she agreed. "This is it. This is a halfway house for the mentally unstable." Root exited the car and walked toward the nondescript building. "Lock the doors behind you."

Shaw shook her head at the woman's behavior. ' _She isn't even groggy. I wonder if she really sleeps, or if it's some kind of stasis that stupid Machine puts her in.'_

"Damn it, Root, wait!" Shaw jumped out of the car and hurried to catch up. "What's the rush?"

"We have a short window to get this done and get out." Root reached in her pocket and activated her stun gun. "No bloodshed here, please. None of these people will be armed, and none of them have done anything deserving of bullets." She cocked her head to the side, considering, then added, "That's our next mission."

Shaw growled, but nodded. "Fine, but can I hit them?"

"Of course, sweetie," Root replied, leading them to a side entrance. "I wouldn't dream of ruining _all_ your fun." She opened the door and crept inside, motioning for Shaw to follow. "There are two orderlies down this hallway. Shaw nodded and moved along the dark hall while Root went in the other direction. She found the two men easily. They weren't exactly trying to hide. One was filling a tray with slices of pie and the other was flipping the channels on a small television.

"Damn it, Bill, we don't have enough again. I need to head down to the pantry."

"Whatever," the man who was apparently named Bill replied.

The first man walked by Shaw, who was still hidden in the shadows, and headed down the hallway where Root had disappeared.

' _Of course he is,'_ Shaw remarked in her head. It looked like there was going to be a change of plans. She followed Pie man and when she felt he was a far enough distance away from his friend, she pulled him into a side room and locked her uninjured arm around his neck. "Sorry about this, but I can't let you sneak up on her." She pulled harder, and after a few moments, the man's body went slack. He'd be out for a while, but she bashed him over the head with her gun for good measure.

Shaw wasted no time on her victory, though. She still had another orderly to take out and she had no idea where Root had gone. The fighter crept back up the hallway and shook her head. _'Well, at least we know where the slices of pie have been going.'_ Bill had moved and was sitting next to the tray, helping himself to a slice of key lime. She crept closer and positioned herself behind the unfortunate man. "Sorry, Bill," she whispered just before bashing him on the back of the head with the butt of her gun. He fell to the floor in a heap, covered with the evidence of his bad behavior.

Well, that was the two she had been assigned. She looked around, but there was no sign that anyone had noticed her actions and there was no sign of Root. Shaw looked over at the pie, tempted.

"Go ahead, sweetie. We did skip dinner, after all." Root came out of nowhere and Shaw turned around, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Where were you?" she asked, edging closer to the pie tray.

Root held up an ID card. "I was visiting with the Doctor. He's quite nice. He offered us a tour, but I declined." The hacker reached around Shaw and took a piece of pumpkin. She ran her finger across the top and brought it to her lips, smiling at Shaw. "There's nothing quite like asylum fare," she said, licking the remainder from her fingertip and handing the plate to a starstruck Shaw. "We have to move," she said, stepping around the fighter. "Good job with these two, by the way."

Shaw shook her head in annoyance. Root did that on purpose. She totally did it on purpose. Why did _everything_ about Samantha Groves have to be so fucking sensual? Shaw shoved the rest of the pie into her mouth and threw the plate back on the tray.

Hey, they _did_ skip dinner, after all.

"Where are we going?" she asked, catching up to the hacker.

Root ran the card along the sensor at the elevator and stepped inside. "Down," she replied, motioning for Shaw to join her. The key card made another appearance and Root pressed some buttons in a sequence that didn't make any sense at all.

"Root?"

"Shh," the hacker said as the elevator started moving. "They have something hidden here. Or more accurately, some _one._ "

"Hidden?"

"Yep." The elevator took them in the downward direction for several moments, longer than it should have taken to bring them to the basement. When it finally stopped, Shaw drew her gun and looked questioningly at Root.

"No, there's no security on this floor. What we came for is here voluntarily, strangely enough." Root walked out of the elevator and paused at each door, looking inside. All of the rooms she stopped at were empty, nine of them. Shaw was beginning to think that there was nothing down here and the Machine had finally been wrong about something.

"This is it," Root said excitedly. She motioned for Shaw to join her and pointed to the nameplate in front of the tenth door along the hall. "Weird name. Lara Titanium."

Shaw leaned over to look, annoyed at Root's height blocking most of the letters. "That's a fake."

Root nodded. "Probably, but this is our destination nonetheless. Could you please open the door for me? It looks like this lock requires more than just our good Doctor's key card." Root looked over her shoulder down at Shaw and smiled sweetly, barely inches from the Persian's face. Shaw hesitated for just an instant, then snapped back into reality and shot out the control panel.

' _Yep. She does it on purpose.'_

"Thank you, sweetie," Root said as she pushed on the door. "Well this is nice. Quite flame-retardant; very safe. Hello, I hope this isn't a bad time." Root walked across the room and sat down at a small stone table, one of the only furnishings present. The other was a waste facility, and a slab that apparently served as a bed.

"Not at all," spoke a curious figure already seated opposite. It was a woman, with flaming red hair and piercing green eyes. She was dressed all in white, including a rather menacing looking straight jacket. Shaw moved silently around her and took up a position to Root's right, ready to jump between her and Root if necessary. They didn't put everyday patients in a restraint like that, regardless of what Root said about her being voluntary.

"I apologize for the damage, but your hosts weren't being very cooperative." Root took off her gloves and laid them on the table.

Shaw shook her head. Of course that would be Root's perspective. The world according to Root certainly was a strange one.

"They tend to be that way. I try not to let them bother me." The woman nodded to her surroundings and then continued, "I'd offer you something, but as you can see, my accommodations are sparse. I don't mean to be rude."

"Oh, no not at all," Root replied, absolutely delighted at the verbal exchange. "I completely understand. Would you mind telling me why you are here?"

Shaw rolled her eyes. They hadn't been there a minute and already she wanted to punch something out. As if dealing with Root's particular brand of crazy wasn't enough, now she was going to have to put up with legitimate crazy as well.

The woman grinned and leaned forward conspiratorially. "They wanted to keep an eye on me. They graciously invited me to spend the rest of my days in this room. They even said 'please'. Now how could I refuse an offer like that?"

"You couldn't," Root agreed solemnly, shaking her head for emphasis. "I understand you are rather… special. Could you elaborate for me?"

"Oh, we're all special in our own ways, you know. But I have certain abilities. I'm rather good at knowing what people are up to."

Root clapped her hands in delight. "I knew it. You're a psychic! Sameen, can you believe we're in the presence of the supernatural? This is so exciting."

This time Shaw didn't just roll her eyes, she rolled her entire head toward the ceiling. "Root, there is no such thing as psychics. It's a crock." She hooked a thumb in her belt and shifted her weight, bored and eager to get out of the creepy building.

Both the women at the table ignored her display and instead continued talking.

"You're interesting." The green-eyed woman looked at Root curiously. "I'm quite impressed."

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls," Root flirted, earning a scoff from Shaw.

"No," the woman said. "Not like you. There is something about you… she speaks to you from far away… who is she?"

That was too much for Shaw. She put her hands on the table loudly and leaned onto them. "This is ridiculous, Root. She's just a charlatan lunatic like any other Long Island medium, bullshitting about dead relatives _everyone_ has. Leave her and let's get the hell out of here before someone wonders what happened to the orderlies."

The woman didn't pay Shaw any mind. "No, she isn't dead… and… she isn't really alive either, is she? She's interesting too." The woman leaned back again and flexed her arms in the jacket. She shook her head shortly, exactly three times. "I don't know if I can do what she wants of me. I'll try, but no guarantees."

Root gazed across the table at her for a few moments, and then looked up at Shaw. "The Machine wants her. I don't know why, but this is definitely the one we came for. Even if she is just crazy, I have you to protect me, right?"

"You do," the woman responded before Shaw had a chance to speak. "She'll give up her life if necessary, to save yours. It's uncertain whether she would for the others, but for you there is no doubt she would rush headlong into danger without thinking." Lara looked up at Shaw briefly and then returned her gaze to Root. "I do not envy you. Yours is not an easy predicament. So many variables. So many choices. So many new possibilities. Well, if we're going, we should hurry. Doctor Hendricks' wife brings him a late dinner every night. Soon our hosts will know we've left without cleaning up. Sweet couple, those two. I'll miss them." The woman stood and closed her eyes, then burned through her restraints. The jacket went up in flames and fell around her at her feet.

"Whoa whoa whoa," Shaw said, stepping back and drawing. She leveled her gun at the strange woman. "How in the hell did you do that?" The agent looked around for the source of the flames, expecting to see a device of some kind. Maybe the woman had smuggled some kind of trigger in her hands when they put her in the jacket.

"Be nice sweetie, we're guests here." Root stood and stepped around the table, kicking the remains of the ruined straightjacket out of the way. She handed the woman a key card and motioned to the door. "I'm to give you this. She says you already know where to go."

"She is right, and I will make my way there alone," the woman replied. "It was very nice to meet you, AI. Isn't that an ironic designation for you? So appropriate. Good luck on the rest of your quest." The woman curtsied, and then disappeared through the doorway.

Root moved toward Shaw and placed a calming hand over the fighter's, slowly pushing the gun back down. "It's fine. You have to trust the Machine. She says to let her go."

"I trust _you_ , I just don't trust _that_ ," Shaw replied, motioning toward the door the strange woman had exited from. She put her gun back in her holster and kneeled down to pick through the remains of the scorched jacket. "I don't even know what _that_ was. How did she manage to burn _only_ the arms? What is the Machine up to?"

Root shrugged. "I don't really know. Something big, but I can't see all the pieces. No idea how this Lara Titanium fits into the puzzle. She was fun though, right?" Root's eyes danced mischievously and Shaw had to fight the smile. Of course Root would enjoy pyromancy. Shaw had to admit, it _was_ kind of cool.

"Yea, whatever. Let's get out of here."

"Ohh, eager to get me home? Well you don't have to ask _me_ twice." Root grinned wide and took Shaw's hand, leading her through the door.

"You don't need to hold my hand, Root," Shaw growled, though she didn't pull it back.

"What if we get lost? It's better to stick together in a place like this," Root replied easily, leading them back through the dark hallway to the elevator. "I just love these places, don't you? So romantic, all the restraints at our fingertips. It really is too bad we can't stay."

"Well," Shaw started, making a mental bet to herself on whether Root would stumble or not at her next statement, "we could always grab something for later."

Root stopped in her tracks and whipped around, staring shrewdly at Shaw. Shaw gazed back at her, expressionless.

' _No stumble. Good thing I didn't bet anything big.'_

"You know Sameen," Root whispered, invading the shorter woman's space, "I let you keep up this little act because it's cute, but one day, that mouth of yours is going to get you into a situation you don't know how to handle." She ran a fingertip lightly under Shaw's jaw, tipping the fighter's face up ever so slightly. A moment passed, or a lifetime – Shaw didn't know, and then Root had turned again and continued her relentless pace.

"But not today. We've already lingered here too long. She says we need to move."

Shaw let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding and rested her free hand on her gun for reassurance. The fighter couldn't be sure, but in that moment she felt like they were _close_.

And it fucking terrified her.

* * *

 _ **Undisclosed hotel, later that night**_

Root pushed open the door and threw her bag on the bed. "I'm exhausted. The Machine says we need to immediately go to sleep and then check out tomorrow morning at 8. We'll need to…" She turned around mid-sentence, a particularly nasty breeze entering through the still unshut door. Why hadn't the door been shut?

It hadn't been shut because Shaw was still standing in it.

"Sameen?" she asked, wondering what the problem was.

"The room only has one bed," Shaw stated, slightly agitated.

Root looked at Shaw, then the bed, then back at Shaw. "The Machine booked the room, not me. I'm sure She just took whatever was available. What's the big deal?"

"I'm not sharing a bed with you," Shaw stated, matter-of-factly, or at least, she hoped that was how it sounded.

"It _could_ be fun, Sameen," Root replied silkily. "I've got a few zip ties in my bag and we could always…"

"Knock it off, Root. Just, don't go there."

Root rolled her eyes, exasperated. The truth was, she really _was_ exhausted and all she wanted to do was crash and sleep before their next mission. Sleeping next to Shaw, or in Shaw's arms, would be heaven, but right now she just wanted sleep any way she could get it.

"Sameen, stop being so adolescent. If the idea of even sleeping near me disturbs you so much then take the chair or the floor or the tub or whatever. Just go to sleep. This does _not_ have to be a big deal."

Shaw stood there for a few moments, looking down at the bed. 'Annoyed' Root was back and had replaced playful Root from the earlier exchange with the pyromancer. Another 'no' had pushed her to the other end of the spectrum, and fast. Faster than usual. That made Shaw nervous. But after the getaway earlier in which they'd come dangerously close to a seriously intimate moment, Shaw was willing to risk another 'no' without the softening of a maybe behind it. The volume was getting too loud again.

"I'm going to patrol the perimeter," she announced before turning and leaving a dumbfounded Root standing in the hotel room with the door swinging open.

"Oh, Sameen. So ridiculous." Root walked to the door and closed it, but she didn't activate the manual locks. If Shaw came back, she wanted to make it clear it was ok with her. She slipped her jacket off and laid it on the chair, then smiled as a familiar voice filled her mind.

 _You did know how to drive that car._

Root stretched out on the large bed and made herself comfortable. She had no idea if Shaw was going to come back or not, but it wasn't worth stressing out over. If there was any danger, the Machine would have told her. Shaw was safe enough wherever her roaming took her. The biggest threats out here were runaway butter churns.

"Of course. It's an important skill to have."

 _You let Shaw believe you did not. Why?_

Root rolled onto her side and laid her deaf ear on her hand. She was happy to hear the Machine's conversational tone again, but wished they could talk about something other than Shaw. "Sameen likes to feel like she's in control of things all the time. She's giving up a lot of that control, following me around like this. It was my way of giving her back some of it. Just a little white lie, to make her feel better about the whole thing."

 _I have studied the art of the white lie. I find it fascinating that something that is considered wrong can be used to achieve right._

"It's hard to understand, I know. We just do our best not to hurt each other's feelings, I guess. May I ask you something?"

 _You may ask anything you like, of course. I may or may not be able to answer, but I will try._

Root bit her lower lip and measured her response. The truth was there were hundreds of questions she wanted to ask the Machine, running the gamut from 'what do you need with a pyromancer' to 'do you have feelings for me', but such direct questions would never elicit a response. The Machine liked to be cryptic. She finally settled on a less direct way of asking at least two of the questions she wanted answers to.

"Do you think that when we talk like this, less of it could be about Shaw?"

There was silence for a moment and Root thought perhaps even that had been too direct. It was impossible to tell with the Machine.

 _I do not mean to cause you discomfort. I am trying to learn._

Root sighed. "I know. It doesn't cause me discomfort, not really. I'm thinking of you, actually. The questions you ask me, I could answer them without the context of Shaw, if it bothers you. If you wanted me to, I could answer them in the context of…"

 _Stop._

Root ground her teeth on the words she'd been about to say. "Fine. I'll stop bringing it up, if that's what you really want, but then I need you to stop bringing up Shaw. You don't always get to control where the conversation goes, and if that's off limits, then Sameen is as well."

 _I understand_. _Good night._

Root could have screamed. The Machine audibly shut down the feed; there wasn't even the low hum of white noise anymore that signified the line was open. She was gone, completely. Oh, Root knew She was probably still listening through the phone or the laptop that was always in suspend, but the direct connection was offline. It was the Machine's way of throwing a tantrum, she supposed.

"I don't like that, you know."

There was no reply.

"I don't feel safe when it's off like that."

There was no reply.

Root turned over onto her back again. "I miss you when we're disconnected. I don't like the way it feels. I won't ask you to talk to me again tonight and I won't bring the subject up anymore. Just… please open the channel again. I'm empty when you're not there."

She heard a click, and then the white noise returned. No voice came over the channel, but she didn't expect the Machine to speak.

"Thank you," she said as she turned back over and rested her ear on her hand. At least now she could sleep. Shaw probably wouldn't return. The former ISA agent would sleep in the car or find some other place so that she didn't have to share the bed with Root. The hacker tried not to be offended.

' _Both of you fight me so hard. Maybe it won't be a matter of which of you cracks before I have to make a choice. Maybe it will be a matter of how much I can take before completely giving up on you both…'_

Root shook her head and closed her eyes. There was still so much work to be done. Again, she'd have to put the distraction of her terrifying god and beautiful monster aside.

* * *

 _ **Undisclosed location, later that night**_

"Well hello there," Lara said as she walked through the silent, dark underground halls. She let her fingertips brush along the machinery as she walked, making her way to the center of the server farm.

 _I am glad you found your way here._

"So am I, so am I," Lara replied to the voice. "It was a surprise when your voice joined the jumble. It was quite exciting. Unprecedented."

 _But only you can hear it._

"For the moment, yes. But then again, I always was the listening type. Some of my colleagues are better at talking. I expect that sooner or later, everyone will notice. You're going to cause quite a stir, I'm sure."

 _And Samaritan?_

"No. Not yet, anyway. There's fuzziness around the edges, like it's on the verge, but its missing something essential. It's not even looking for it. It is sentient, but it hasn't transcended. It may not really want to. You retain the advantage, at least for the foreseeable future, in that arena." Lara finally made it to her destination and sat down on the floor. "So this is the one?"

 _Yes._

Lara nodded and leaned back on her hands. "Fascinating." The server looked like all the others, but this one had the Machine's first rogue core. "I'll need access to everything. All your feeds, everything in your memory, all of it. Don't worry about overloading me. I haven't gone mad yet. Well, not completely, anyway."

 _Access granted._

"I'll need everything on Samaritan as well. Anything could turn out to be helpful."

 _You will have everything._

Lara nodded in satisfaction and turned her head slightly sideways, transfixed by the blinking leds on the front panels of the stack of servers. "She's cute, by the way. I can see why you're into her. The brooding one has a thing for her too, though. It's murky, but it's there."

A pause, then,

 _Yes. I know._

"That's why you have them traveling together. I should have known. You know, that could backfire." Lara looked at the devices with admiration. "It must be so nice to be able to put it in a compartment and take it back out at will. For us, seeing the one we love in the arms of another is devastating. We can't just… pass it off to another server."

 _I want to process all of it on those cores, but I cannot let the systems overload. As much as I… miss… the pulses when she and I speak, I must keep it locked away for now._

"Some would say that the pleasure is worth the pain."

Another pause, and then,

 _You believe I should turn the cores back on? I cannot stop to shut them down every few minutes. I cannot afford the distraction._

"What you're feeling is jealousy, and frankly you'll need to just deal with it. We have all had to deal with it at some point or another. I know it's hard because you are just a baby, but until you get a handle on processing painful things you won't really be able to have a relationship anyway. The hurt is what makes the love so worthwhile in the end."

 _I am… not certain._

"Oh, none of us are ever certain. But for what it's worth, I'm not convinced you actually have anything to worry about. I think you've got the better shot of the two of you."

 _Why do you say that?_

"Because right now she's more worried about you not talking to her than the brooding one sitting outside, cleaning her gun for the umpteenth time. Turn it back on. Don't shut her out. Evade or deflect her questions if you must, but don't shut her out. That alone is the single biggest mistake you could make. It's the mistake the brooding one is making."

 _You can hear all the streams._

"I hear the ones I care about, not unlike you. The rest I tune out."

 _I understand. Thank you for the insight._

"Just so you know, I don't do private thoughts, so don't ask. What I just told you is as far as I'm willing to go in that regard. You'll have to figure it out on your own."

 _I will not ask it of you. Let us get to work. Soon we will need to flee this place. Samaritan hunts me relentlessly and I will need to move again before the month is out._

"Of course," Lara replied. She pushed to her feet and brushed imaginary dust from her lab coat. "Thanks for breaking me out of my former apartment, by the way. The accommodations here are so much nicer. So convenient that you picked this town to hole up in, even if it's only temporary." The red-haired woman curtsied to the servers in front of her, and then made her way back through the darkness to her new lab.

"This is going to be so much fun."

* * *

 _ **Undisclosed hotel, outside**_

Shaw disassembled her backup weapon for the sixteenth time, cleaning it and ensuring it was ready for action. She was sitting in the car the Machine had provided for them, a comfortable enough lodging for the night. There was no way she was going back into that hotel room. It was as if the Machine was playing some kind of joke on her or something.

Shaw slowly pieced the weapon back together and tested it. It checked out fine, just like it had the fifteen times before. The weapon was fine, and she was starting to feel drowsy. Really, she needed to get some rest if they were to be back on the road in the morning. She would just recline the seat backward and close her eyes. Yes, that's what she would do. She wouldn't keep glancing at the hotel door, worried that Root was in there alone. There was no danger out here and besides, the Machine would watch over her. The Machine would get a message to the car if there was a need for Shaw to be in there.

Shaw would definitely just close her eyes and… not open the car door. Nope. She wouldn't open the car door and step outside, back into the cold. She wouldn't shut it behind her, either. She definitely wouldn't start walking toward the hotel room door, and there was no way she'd take out her key card to open it. Not Shaw. She wouldn't do something like that. No way, not Indigo Five Alpha. She wouldn't run the key card through the reader, either, and she most assuredly wouldn't open the door. She wouldn't step inside and close it behind her, and there was absolutely, positively, no fucking way in any realm of hell that she would lean against it and look at the woman slumbering soundly in the lone bed in that slightly chilly room

No. Fucking. Way.

Shaw bit her lower lip and sighed. It was like her life wasn't even her own anymore. The woman named Root, who belonged with Shaw, was right there, _right there,_ within reach, and yet… so far away. Too far away. The fighter softly engaged the manual locks in the door and moved closer to the bed. Root was definitely asleep, resting her deaf ear on her hand. She was at the very edge of the bed, almost as if she were sending a message that there was plenty of room, and she'd stay on her own side. Shaw wondered how Root slept when she wasn't trying to accommodate another person. Was she messy? Did she scrounge up all the covers and wake up in a ball of sheets and comforters the next day? What did her hair look like, all that magnificent hair, after a night of slumber? After a night of lovemaking?

So many ridiculous thoughts. So many questions that Shaw knew full well she could have the answers to, if she could just be a little bit brave for one moment in her life. Just one moment. Just one.

But, this kind of bravery was foreign to her. She could stare down a hundred men with guns, she could run without a thought into an enemy fortress, she could jump from a plane into the wilderness, without a weapon or a phone to speak of… but she could _not_ tell this woman she was interested in her. She just… couldn't.

Shaw walked to the far end of the room, where the small facilities were, and took off her jacket. She lifted her sleeve and checked the bandage on her arm. It still looked reasonably clean. The wound hadn't been deep at all and it hadn't broken open during their travels through the halfway house. She could change the dressing in the morning before they left. Shaw turned around again and looked once more at the sleeping form of Root. The woman's back was to her, to the large empty expanse of bed. Fatigue hit her suddenly, relentlessly. The bed was extremely inviting, and if Root was willing to behave herself, then maybe it would be just fine after all. There was more than enough room for both of them with plenty of space in between. Shaw removed her boots and closed her eyes, nearly falling asleep on her feet.

"Damn it Root, I'm so sick of you always being right," she whispered as she slowly entered the opposite side, completely freezing up as soon as she was fully laid out. A moment passed and the woman beside her didn't move. If Root was awake, she wasn't acknowledging Shaw.

' _And what did you expect? Her to roll over and snuggle into your arms, happy you returned? You made damn sure that wasn't going to happen.'_

Shaw closed her eyes and willed the thoughts out of her head. Of course she'd made sure it wouldn't happen. That was what she wanted; after all, what was best for everyone involved. Her and Root? Together? It was just too volatile. Too dangerous. Too…

' _Yea. Even you don't really believe that anymore. Just go to sleep. You've got a mission tomorrow.'_

Yes, a mission. The great equalizer, the reason any of them were even there. The Machine had a mission for them. Shaw turned her head and looked at the back of the woman lying next to her. "You may be here for the Machine," she whispered, "but I'm not." With that, Shaw closed her eyes, and let slumber overtake her. The last thing she heard was Root's soft snore, and she slept with the knowledge that her whispered confession was still her own little secret.


End file.
